Reputation
by CeceVolume
Summary: A challenge a friend gave me to write a full story based on a music album. I chose Reputation by Taylor Swift as inspiration. All of the tracks, in order, will co-inside with a chapter. Caroline deals with mortality versus immortality. Rating M because not sure how far chapters will go and I know I swear a lot.


REPUTATION

… _Ready For It?_

 _In the middle of the night, in my dreams  
I know I'm gonna be with you  
So I take my time  
Are you ready for it?_

Standing at the door, she paused, staring at it in hopes it would give her the words.

It had been years—coming up on a decade, in fact—since they'd done more than sparing written correspondence to one another. Every word had remained with her, reminding her of all those promises he had made once upon a time. Would they still hold true? So much time had passed, so many things had happened to each of them.

Maybe she had waited too long, maybe their chance had come and gone. For years, it had been one of those "what ifs" settling in the back of her mind, creeping in when she was least expecting them, though they weren't unwelcome. She'd had time to realize that eternal life was what you made of it.

She couldn't make unfair demands of humanity to herself and think she would be happy.

There were many things that she hadn't wanted to admit when she still thought of herself as human. She'd been a vampire for a long time and had only become comfortable with the fact that life and people would move on with or without her as she realized that her friends were growing older without her. She couldn't hold herself to the same expectations as they did; she had much longer to live with her choices.

So she'd made the trip, found herself at a nightmare-turned-daydream's door, wondering if that was what he had intended for her to learn or if she was hoping for too much of a Hallmark moment.

Taking a slow breath to steady her nerves, she raised her fist and knocked.

* * *

 _Five years earlier_

She could have laughed as she held up the check and letter once more. It was so quintessentially him, she wanted to roll her eyes, if only to stop them from tearing up.

Even though they'd made it a group effort, Caroline had taken a lot of the responsibility for the Salvatore Boarding School onto her own shoulders. After Stefan…she needed it. She needed something to focus her mind and efforts on. It was almost cathartic, all the paperwork and planning, micromanaging. It was exactly what she was good at, even thrived on.

But that didn't mean it didn't still take its toll.

Fundraising and finding hidden pockets of money was tough, especially when you couldn't say _exactly_ what was going on to the public. Most people got tightfisted with their wallets when you were vague—especially when the words "gifted" and "special" were thrown in. Though they always met their goals, it came with long nights staying up and finding the _perfect_ words to be taken appropriately by those throwing their money around.

The check had been more than enough to make her cry with hysterical joy.

Yet it wasn't the check that kept her coming back for more. While it took off much of the burden—another neat trick she'd learned was the more that other people gave, the more some of the stingier people gave—it was his neat, scrawling handwriting that drew her eyes back to the letter accompanying it.

She should have known—because she knew him well, at least deep down—that he would want to congratulate her in some way. Hell, he'd driven all the way back to Mystic Falls to see her graduate, unknowingly arriving just in time to save her and her friends' lives. Of course he wanted to let her know that he was out there, keeping tabs…proud of her. He was over a thousand years old; she should have known he had meant it, all of it.

 _However long it takes._

She set the letter and check down on her desk, looking out the window into the darkness of the night as thoughts assaulted her. Did any of this change the fact that he had been a tormentor to her and her friends? No. Did it mean that she forgave him for everything he'd ever done? No.

But as she glanced at the photo of her and Stefan standing beneath a tree, smiling to the camera with their arms around each other, she had to admit that she'd done wrong, too. And for much the same reasons. She had been willing to do anything to protect her family, too. Did it mean that she should be forgiven? No.

Such was eternal life. She had so much longer to live with the things she chose to do, to think. Should she dwell on the past? If she chose to move forward, did that mean she was betraying herself, her friends? Did it mean she would forgive and forget only to be put in the position again?

That was up to her.

It was all up to her. She was the one that had to deal with the consequences of what she'd done, would do. She was the one that had to make her own choices, live her own life.

Picking up the picture, she felt her eyes well up as she traced a finger down the frozen moment, wishing she could have just one more moment with him to ask the questions that were burning her up.

Was _he_ proud of her? Did _he_ want to congratulate her? Could he forgive her if she moved on with her life?

Sighing, she put the photo down, rolling her neck and shoulders.

It had been a long day; she deserved some rest and relaxation. There was a book she'd been meaning to start, one that one of the mothers had suggested. She could run herself a bubble bath, pour a glass of wine, and start it. A mini-spa night could be just what she needed.

Her eyes were drawn to the paper on the desk, though. It would be rude if she didn't respond to him, thank him for his contribution. It was something she'd do for any donor, especially one that had given so much. She had to have manners to keep her sanctuary running, afterall.

Instead, she rose from her chair, gently pushing it in before she straightened the papers on her desk one more time, putting the letter and check in her locked drawer.

She had time to answer him. All the time in the world, in fact.

But right now, she really needed a soak and a good book.

* * *

 _Thank you for your generous donation. We'll be sure to put it to good use for our students!_

 _Sincerely_

 _Caroline Forbes-Salvatore  
Acting Headmistress of Salvatore Boarding School_

Klaus pursed his lips in annoyance. He didn't know what he'd expected, of course, after sending her a two million dollar check. Certainly not for her to fall over herself in gratitude and move to New Orleans to confess her undying love and affection, but such a brusque brush off?

Glaring at the page—as if it would offer some hidden message he could only see if he concentrated hard enough—he barely heard Elijah enter the study, his footsteps light, almost bouncing. What the hell did _he_ have to be so happy about?

"If you want the paper on fire, brother, we have a perfectly fine fireplace in the sitting room," the elder Mikaelson quipped, a clear smirk in his voice. "As far as I know, you have not gained laser vision in recent months."

He rolled his eyes in response, mouth set in a hard line as he looked to his brother. "I'm well aware, Elijah, of the layout of my own home," he returned, knowing that he sounded like a pouting child. He wondered if he should talk to Elijah about his donation to Caroline's school and her returning letter. Perhaps he would have insight into the subtext of her response. He seemed to be getting along much easier with the fairer sex as of late; maybe he could shed light?

In characteristic stubbornness, however, Klaus chose to say no more, turning his attention back to the words written before him. He would decipher it himself.

Was she really trying to brush him off? Probably not. If he knew Caroline at all, he knew she would have sent the check back to him in pieces if her desire had been to agitate him. However, she hadn't responded to anything personal in his letter to suggest they were at least friends, nor had she included pictures or even a newsletter as if he were a normal wealthy donor. And, yes, she definitely had those; every private school worth donating to did, so she most likely had one printed and sent out monthly.

But why would she say so little if she wasn't subtly telling him he was annoying her?

With a deep sigh, he folded the paper and stuffed it in his back pocket, looking back to his brother. "If I live forever, I will never understand the minds of modern humans," he said, walking over to sit down in the over-stuffed easy chair beside Elijah's. He leaned his head back to look to the ceiling. "It seems the longer I live, the less I can make of why they do things."

Stiffly unfolding the newspaper he procured from the side table, Elijah didn't stop reading as he answered, "How _is_ Caroline lately?"

 _Present day_

One knock was all it took. Before she even had the time to think about ding-dong ditching him, she heard heavy footsteps and the doorknob twisting. _Now or never_ , she thought, forcing herself to relax.

When he swung open the door, it was like the world stood still. Not in a Hallmark way, but in a holy-shit-I-did-this way. Her breath caught in her throat and she knew, without a doubt, that she had been wrong to just show up.

Too much time had passed. They knew even less about each other now than they did before; at least back then they saw each other regularly. Now all they had were a handful of letters each, a blast-from-the-past style penmanship. He probably didn't even think of her unless he was writing to ask for Hope's progress in their self-defense or spells courses. None of their correspondence even called for an _email address_ exchange; everything could wait the three days for the mail to come and go!

How would she talk her way out of being the fool? How could she have put herself in this situation in the first place? Why was she still even standing there? Sure, he'd seen her, but she could probably make it back to the car without embarrassing herself further. Then they could pretend this had never even happened!

But then time started again and she saw the look on his face. What had clearly been meant to be a menacing scowl had almost immediately transformed into a soft smile that spread straight through his eyes. She could _see_ his shoulders loosen, as did his hand on the knob.

She couldn't help but give him much the same.

"Caroline," he murmured, the way he always had, even when they were only talking over the phone. The way that told her she could ask him for a killer prom dress and he would deliver or to set Tyler free from his fear of reprisal.

His feelings hadn't changed; he'd merely done what he told her.

 _However long it takes._

Before he could say more, she did what she hadn't really expected herself to. It wasn't originally in her plan, hadn't even really crossed her mind when she played over what she would do in her head.

She practically jumped him, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his collarbone. He didn't miss a beat, wrapping his arms around her in return, tucking his face next to her.

"Hello," she mumbled into his shirt.

* * *

 _I bet you thought I was dead! I would be sorry but I had a baby and I'm not gonna apologize for not having time because CHILDREN ARE HARD._

 _However, I will apologize because I also lost all of my files. Everything for my old stories is gone. I'm thinking about remixing them, trying to get back what I can, but I can't guarantee that anything like that will happen. To get back into the swing of things, I'm going to give myself something small to start with._

 _So a friend of mine and I were writing short stories back and forth and—long story short—we decided to give each other a challenge to write a full length story. She charged me with writing an entire story based off a music album. I was like…fuck. Okay._

 _So here goes. I chose an album I thought would be easy and got immediate inspiration for Klaroline. Don't hate the game, hate the player who's unoriginal!_

 _This story will continue with the other tracks as inspiration. Hopefully you guys can see where I'm coming from because MomBrain is real._

 _Until next time…  
CeceVolume_


End file.
